


television / so far so good

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: bill saves dipper. kind of.
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tw for gore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically an overdone bill redemption arc if i get to working on this fic.
> 
> mostly making this because i’m a sucker for bad charas learning how to be good :)) zuko particularly bc who doesn’t love him. also this fandom has a lot of... really unhealthy content (which is to be expected, it IS billdip), and is probably dead since 2016, but i thought yknow. maybe something different would be cool.
> 
> anyways, ignore my rambling and enjoy the first chapter! maybe this’ll get updated again, who knows.

Dipper remembered when going to Gravity Falls in those first few summers was exciting. He remembered the thrill of each adventure with Mabel, how near-death experiences were just something to laugh at later, how _things didn't matter._

Now, he was toppling down a hill with the grace of a drunken bear. Dipper hopelessly grasped at crumbling dirt, his fingernails riddled with soil that he couldn't feel disgusted by because the hill was one degree away from _cliff,_ and he was one degree away from falling to his death. 

He desperately attempted to get his bearings. He fumbled hastily with his pocket, hurtling painfully downwards, trying to pull out _something_ to stop his fall. 

And then every fibre of his being was engulfed in pain. 

Across his calf, there was a deep, stretching gash that made his stomach audibly lurch. His leg had scraped down a jutting rock, and he was too preoccupied to notice. Dipper was horrified. 

He swallowed down the acids that were daring to spill out, because everything smelled like blood, and he could feel the blood on his leg, _dripping down his leg,_ and Dipper would probably pass out if he focused on it any longer. 

He tried to divert his attention, a hand miserably stuffed in his pocket, but the only things around him were dirt and trees rushing past him. Which just freaked him out more. 

His breaths were becoming short. His ears were pounding. All that his senses could process was _blood, blood everywhere, the fucking smell,_ while his entire body kept getting beat up by loose rocks and dirt. He was drowning in the smell and trickling of thick blood on his leg. The small bruises and cuts only added to the sickening feeling.

And before Dipper could process anything more than the red liquid, he collided into a tree. His head screamed in agony. He was pretty sure his arm twisted the complete wrong way.

Then, there was nothing.

Okay, well that's an exaggeration, because there was still something. Dipper was still _somewhere_. His own mind. The dreamscape. It wasn't new to him, but it felt uncomfortably surreal. There was no blood, and there was no toppling down a hill, and everything was so _serene._ The gash was gone. He was just standing dumbly in his own self-conscious. His body was probably fucked up, or maybe it was halted by the tree - and still fucked up there. Either way, Dipper knew his current state was only temporary. The smell would be back. He was most likely bleeding to death at that moment.

Dipper was probably almost dead. Great.

Attempting to distract himself, he tried to focus on where he was. The surrounding scenery was bland. It was black and white, with simple plains and trees rolling gently through the landscape. Everything felt uncanny. He designed this entire place himself, spending hours figuring out the mindscape, yet it all felt foreign. Like a dream filled with faces that were only shadows of memories. 

His own mind never felt more unfamiliar.

"Well, this doesn't seem too wonderful."

Dipper's blood stopped cold.

What?

Was somebody in his subconscious?

"You must have a death wish or something, kid," the voice jeered in an obnoxiously loud tone. "Which - I _could_ help with."

Dipper was definitely dying. Or dead. There were voices in his head while he was in his head.

He really outdid himself this time.

Deciding not to speak, mostly to convince himself he wasn't going insane, Dipper spun around, attempting to see where the voice had came from.

A tap on his shoulder sent him flying.

"Fuck!" Dipper exclaimed, whipping around. The figure standing in front of him just terrified him more. He stepped back nervously.

"How the hell are you in my mind?" He asked through gritted teeth. " _Who_ the hell are you?"

"The name's Bill," the man (or boy? He appeared fairly young) leered, holding out a hand flaming in blue. Dipper stared at him, then his burning hand incredulously. Bill, as he called himself, wore a simple black sweater a jeans, with blond hair swept across his face. There was a small triangle in the very centre of his hoodie. His casual appearance made Dipper even more uncomfortable.

"Is this real?" He blurted, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pocket as Bill continued to hold his flaming hand out.

"Reality is an illusion created by the over-imaginative minds of you meat bags. I'm just here to offer you some help," the boy said with a sly grin. _Of course_ the strange guy in his dreamscape wouldn't answer with a straight yes or no. Of course. 

"I think I'll be fine, thanks." Dipper responded warily. Maybe he was bleeding to death, yeah, but he wasn't about to trust the made-up person in his dying subconscious.

Bill's expression stayed the exact same, disturbingly so - grinning brightly, yet still completely unreadable. Dipper frowned uneasily.

"That's awfully funny of you to say. Do you want to see what your body looks like right now?" The tone of voice was what made Dipper's gut do a three-sixty. Just the mention of the state of his body sounded incredibly enthusiastic, so much so that Dipper _knew_ this guy didn't want to 'help' him. 

"Fuck off," he sputtered, his stutter betraying the hardened glare plastered on his face. 

"Oh, I'm only trying to help," Bill responded with the same grin. "Your body is going to lose the last of the blood sustaining you right now in about three minutes. Then you'll be an _actual_ meat bag!"

"How is this supposed to help me? At all?"

"I can return you back to perfect health. Then you can maybe die less pathetically - you'll just owe me one little favour, kid." His hand, engulfed in blue flames, returned once again. A slight red spark was visible in his left eye.

And then it clicked.

"Do we have a deal? You've got barely two minutes left till you become maggot meat."

_Holyshitholyshitholyshit._

This was what the journal was talking about. This was exactly what he was _not_ supposed to do.

_But I'm going to die if I don’t do this._

He balled up a fist, meeting Bill's disturbing grin anxiously.

Dipper was going to be smart about this. He wasn't a total nerd his entire life just to get fucked over by a weird paranormal guy.

"Cut the shit, what's the favour?"

Bill narrowed his eyes, still smiling ear-to-ear. "How clever of you to ask," he mocked. 

"Answer the question."

"Demanding, aren't we?" Dipper held his gaze, and Bill folded his arms. "You'd be like fuel to me. Life energy."

"Life . . . what?" 

"The only useful thing you humans have is life energy. I need it. You have it." Bill tapped his foot repeatedly - impatiently? It just stressed Dipper out more. "You've got a minute left. Make up your mind, live or die?"

"How does this affect me?" He asked quickly.

"You get tired, depending on how much I take. Are you done with the questions?"

Bill's apathetic response irked Dipper. 

"Y'know what? Fine." Bill's eyes lit up maliciously. "But-" 

The spark immediately vanished to irritation.

" _But,_ I have some rules. No taking the life . . . stuff, or whatever, when - when I’m working, or . . . or with people." It came out incredibly rushed, mostly due to the pressure of near death.

"Alright. Done deal, I got it. You're one annoying client." Dipper glared, then took his hand.

He couldn't feel the flames, but it was certainly warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying a different outfit for bill bc my man got too many yellow suits like !!! 😳 sorry that it’s kinda short btw lol
> 
> EDIT: OK IM SORRY FOR LIKE UPDATING THIS AGAIN BUT I FOUND LJKE OLD BILLDIP TIKTOK COSPLAY VIDEOS IVE BEEN LAUGHING FOR THE PAST LIKE 20 MINS
> 
> ITS NOT BC OF THE COSPLAYERS ITS JUST LIKE ???? ALL OF THE PPL R LIKE 10 AM I TOO OLD FOR TJIS FANDOM 
> 
> kudos and comments are always really appreciated!!! <33


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter i am terribly sorry sisters 😪😪
> 
> first chapter is slightly edited bc the dialogue was awkward as hell at the end!!!
> 
> hope yall enjoy!

Waking up had never been so agonizing.

Dipper swore under his breath, heaving himself up against the nearest object. A wave of dizziness hit him, his mind swirling and giving him overwhelming vertigo as he clung to the rough surface next to him. Any attempt to recollect what led to his state made his head hurt more. He tried to peel open his eyes, but the light that snuck into his narrowed gaze shot a world of pain through his senses. He pressed a palm against his head, ears ringing and temples aching.

Oh.

Dipper froze where he stood.

Oh no.

Whatever memories from the day before came flooding back like a broken faucet left on. God, was it even a day? How long was he out for?

If the light hurt his eyes before, he could barely notice it then over the buzzing of his nervous system. His gaze burned into the ground, and he clenched his fists at his side, trembling.

How did he manage to be _that_ idiotic? It wasn't that hard to remember.

_"BILL CAN'T BE TRUSTED!"_

He obsessed over those two pages for hours, maybe even days (as he did with the rest of the book). He knew it all word-for-word. He even translated whatever the author had scribbled down, purely out of curiosity and, 'wow, I wonder why this Bill guy is deemed dangerous-murder-triangle by the journal?'

"Jee, I wonder," he mumbled to himself. It came out more as a hiss because his throat was parched and scratchy. Dipper had to pause for a moment, waiting for the pain to cease. 

_Wait a fucking minute._

That sly motherfucker didn't even follow through his part of the deal. Dipper groaned in frustration, hands running through his tangled hair. So much for 'perfect health', he was on the verge of puking out his guts. 

Maybe he just dreamed it all up - his subconscious could've just been looking for a way to keep him preoccupied and alive. That made much more sense than demon guy in his mind. But then again-

Dipper carefully glanced down, twisting his leg to see the back of it. He momentarily gasped, before quickly shutting his mouth closed. The bloody, sickening gash was just - for lack of a better word - _gone._ He swallowed uneasily, the tangy smell still fresh in his thoughts.

_I need to get back home._

To the Shack. Right.

"I'm going back to the Shack," he repeated to himself, as if it were any bit reassuring. Sharply inhaling (followed by a fit of wheezing), Dipper slowly shifted his balance onto both of his feet, slipping a hand off of the tree he was leaning against.

A tree. Of course. He was still in the woods.

Moving hastily - mostly out of irritation for Bill leaving him in the middle of the forest, probably passed out for who knows how long -, Dipper swerved through the bramble and towering pines. The sun was beginning to set, and soft streaks of red and gold like trickled through branches and leaves. Scuffles of small forest creatures could be heard amongst the grit and grass, a reminder that Dipper was never alone in the woods. A chilly breeze made him shiver.

It was his fourth year in Gravity Falls. _Their_ fourth year in Gravity Falls. Dipper and Mabel were sixteen and things were still the same.

His gaze focused on his battered sneakers that walked him through the forest he knew so well. Four _years._ Four years and Dipper was still grasping to the journal like a child's fairytale book. Still chasing after paranormal creatures, still attempting to decrypt the painfully messy notes of an author that was long gone. 

No matter how real the paranormal really was, no matter how old they were getting, four years passed and Dipper was the exact same. Dipper was still just Dipper. 

He really wasn't sure if Mabel was still Mabel.

A few excruciatingly quiet minutes passed during his trek, the only noises breaking the silence being his light footsteps and the occasional cicada. Not thinking about the missing gash on his leg was strenuous.

Eventually, a familiar totem pole was barely distinguishable behind a mass of pine trees. A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and Dipper quickened his pace to reach the front entrance of the Mystery Shack. 

He made it. Was that a good thing? Was making a deal with Bill really worth his _life?_

Another shuddering breath was forced from his lungs. It was bound to backlash sooner or later. Dipper forced himself to shrug and tiptoe up the front porch.

A brief moment of hesitation sent his thoughts flying. The loose fist he held against the door began to tremble and Dipper realized he didn't want to knock. He didn't want to knock because there were so many things that could go wrong and one of those things were guaranteed to happen.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, clenching his fist. Probability sucks, Dipper concluded.

Three consecutive knocks, and one extra knock a heartbeat afterwards. He quickly shoved his hand in a pocket and tensed at the door. 

A few seconds, then it creaked open in front of him.

"Dipper?" 

He grimaced at the sight of his sister's expression. 

"Dipper," she repeated, this time with a sigh. He swallowed a bubble of guilt that threatened to rise in his throat.

"I-" Dipper tried to speak, but the words were lost in his mouth. Mabel just widened the opening and walked to the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow.

"I." He tried again. She grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge.

"Are . . .," Dipper started. Mabel paused, turning to meet his gaze as he attempted to form a sentence. "Are we going to be here forever?"

Mabel gave him a ghost of a smile.

“I don’t know, bro-bro.”

A static, yet comfortable silence filled the room. Dipper rested his head on a hand, propped up by an elbow. Even the kitchen of the Mystery Shack felt distant to his mind. Just a ghost of a memory. 

“Want some O.J.?” Mabel asked, sliding a glass over.

The paranormal activity in Gravity Falls had died down from the moment they returned. Mabel took down her Sev’ral Timez poster when they began unpacking.

Dipper was still Dipper.

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what’s the elephant in the room yall??? 😳 sadly no bill this chapter lolll
> 
> welcome back to another episode of my incredibly inconsistent writing style !
> 
> also leaving ur thoughts on it in the comments or kudos means a lot to me!! i live off of feedback hehe


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote a chapter longer than 1000 words? i think i’m going insane
> 
> i had an entire free day to write this but i’m too lazy to edit rn so this’ll be revised later. anyways ENJOY !!! <3

Apparently Grunkle Stan was away on a business trip. Which, Dipper assumed meant another _The Price Is Right_ situation, which also meant he would probably be back the next day with no money and a lack of deodorant. The combination just made Stan more cranky.

Grunkle Stan's absence didn't change much. Either way, Dipper was still laying in bed staring at the ceiling with an empty head, and Mabel was still catching up on another episode of _Schitt's Creek._ She had downloaded enough Netflix before their trip to take up the storage space of an entire NASA supercomputer - on the other hand, Dipper had his typical gigantic stack of books at his bedside. Mabel had knocked it over at one point while attempting to kill a wasp with a flycatcher.

The one thing that hadn't changed was their inseparability. The two twins still watched movies together, went paranormal-hunting together, and did all of Grunkle Stan's meaningless chores together. The latter was less of a choice and more of a you'll-get-kicked-out-if-you-don't, but still. Inseparable twins.

Inseparable also meant telling each other secrets, which was the main reason why Dipper was watching the wooden roof with so much intent. He _couldn't_ tell Mabel that he made a deal with Bill. He barely even registered what happened that day, and thinking about it just brought back the sensation of blood everywhere and an urge to vomit. Never mind the fact that Dipper hadn’t seen the guy since they made the deal. Chances were he’d never see him again - he had no clue how the taking-life-energy even worked. Did Bill have to be in his presence? Or could he just take it whenever and not even say a word?

Dipper sure as hell wanted to have a word with the bastard. Not because he wanted to take back the deal, or because he was scared or something, but because the shit-head didn’t follow through his part of the deal. Dipper _still_ felt nauseous when walking, and sometimes he’d find little scratches and scuffs across his back. At one point he fell over in front of Mabel because of how dizzy he was, which forced him to come up with more pathetic excuses to avoid talking about Bill.

“I think we should call Nana,” Mabel spoke up, pausing her show to look at him. Dipper startled so badly that he practically flew upright, which earned a raised eyebrow. The panic immediately subsided into embarrassment.

“Are you sure?” He asked carefully, not wanting to cause Mabel to frown any further.

“Yeah. I got a call from her this morning, I just wasn’t sure if, y’know . . .,” She trailed off, looking down.

“If I wanted to.”

“Yeah.”

A brief silence bubbled between them, and Dipper fiddled with the loose string on his blanket.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate it,” he finally said. Mabel’s eyes filled with so much relief, so much so that Dipper wondered if she actually thought he didn’t _want_ to call their extended family. If he just wanted to forget about it all and live out the rest of the summer like nothing ever happened. Of course he didn’t. 

Reminding himself that just made him feel more guilty.

“OK, I’ll call.” She flipped over the iPhone 8 on her bed, which was considerably better than the shoddy iPhone 6 Dipper still managed to use. Mabel had spent an entire year saving up for that phone, but Dipper couldn’t really care as much. He didn’t have many people to call or text, anyways.

Two rings sounded, then a staticky, “Hello?”

“Hi, Nana,” Mabel responded. “Dipper’s here too.” He gave an overly forced hello.

“Thank goodness you called back. I was starting to get worried.” A brief pause. “Are you two doing okay? Do you want to come back early this summer?”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other briefly, before Mabel looked back down at the phone shaking her head. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Are you alright?”

“Not entirely, no. Your grandfather is taking it much worse.”

“Oh,” Dipper absentmindedly responded, before quickly adding, “I’m really sorry, it must be hard.” _Way to go, Dipper, how caring of you._

“We - the - the funeral is in July,” their grandmother choked out. The silence returned once again. This time Dipper managed to rip the string of fabric farther out of the old sleeping bag, causing a sound that made Mabel visibly cringe.

“When in July?” She forced. Dipper froze. July meant going back to Piedmont. July meant a six hour trip back to home-not-home and a six hour trip back, _if_ they were going back. He suddenly felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

“We haven’t decided the date yet, but - but it’ll probably be midway through.”

“Oh.” 

“I know you kids need some time. Please, call me if you need anything.”

“Love you, Nana,” they said in delayed unison.

“Love you too.” 

There was a brief click, and the call ended. Both siblings sat at the end of their beds, both dead still and both having nothing to say. There _was_ nothing to say. Saying something meant it was real. They both knew that well enough.

So, Dipper got up and climbed out the window to the spot where he could lay down and look at clouds pass by instead of the rustic wood roof. Where time could pass and he didn’t have to notice. The small cooler of pop cans that Wendy brought up was still there, as well as the shade-umbrella. Wendy was gone. Wendy left for college and said she would be coming back which Dipper fully understood, but made him incredibly frustrated. Frustrated and incredibly dismayed. It would probably be years until Wendy came back because she was on the other side of the world. The only reminder he had of her was the stupid fucking cooler that didn’t even have any ice in it.

Dipper didn’t have his dumb crush on Wendy anymore - that was forgiven and forgotten ages ago. He was just fucking _mad._ Mad that Wendy had left, mad that Soos moved away with his girlfriend, mad that Mabel was already applying for universities. It was selfish. He wanted everything to stay the same. He wanted to go on those stupid little adventures with Soos and Mabel, or to hang out with Wendy’s friends and feel cool for a fleeting day. The only thing that was the same was Robby and his stupid face, and even then, he started hosting little concerts in town. 

Piedmont was at the bottom of his list and that was what mortified him the most.

Dipper was furious with himself. Bitter tears formed and blurred his vision. He abruptly rose from where he stood, and he didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know how to handle anything, so instead he ripped a pop can out of the cooler and flung it into the forest in pure rage. The can barely passed the first tree, which upset him further, and he chucked another one. And another. And one after the next until they were all scattered along the front row of trees, not a single can making it into the woods. It was pathetic. He was pathetic.

A shaky breath was forced out. His entire body trembled because now his arm ached and his legs grew tired from standing on the stupid roof that was on the verge of collapsing. Dipper choked out a sob collapsing back down and curling up. It was so _stupid._ Mabel was probably worrying her ass off over him and he was just throwing cans off the roof for the past half-hour. 

“Aw, little Pine Tree is crying. How sad.”

And Dipper immediately flew up, throwing a punch as hard as he could because he was so fucking _done._ It collided incredibly satisfyingly with the face of who he assumed was Bill, but wasn’t very sure about because everything was blurred by tears.

“ _Leave,_ ” he spat, heaving frenzied breaths.

“Haha, wow! That felt _amazing,_ to think you meat bags can just do this anytime!” Bill - yeah, that was definitely Bill - exclaimed. Dipper watched as the demon started punching his own face, which was an incredibly sad sight because Bill clearly had no clue how to punch.

“Did you even hear me the first time?” Dipper said irritably, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I’m not leaving. Not in the contract, kid.” And he was still lazily hitting his face. 

“You leaving me on the verge of fainting and with a bunch of random scratches wasn’t in the contract either, but here we fucking are.”

“What?”

“What?”

“I healed you.”

“You got rid of a cut on my leg. That was it.”

“Oh.”

This guy was dumb. Incredibly stupid.

Dipper sighed, pinching the nose of his bridge frustratedly. Bill was the last person he wanted to see at that moment.

Then again, there was an opportunity somewhere in the predicament.

“Since _you_ couldn’t even follow through your side of the deal, how about this-“ Bill narrowed his eyes, halting his self-injuring. “I have no clue how this life energy thing works, but I’m guessing that _you_ want a lot of it. Or need, I don’t know. And since you didn’t get me back to ‘perfect health’, I’ll let it slide. On the condition that you only take a little bit everyday.”

“I could make your puny little body implode right here at the blink of an eye if I really wanted to, Pines,” Bill sneered, balling a fist with eyes that glowed a terrifying red. Dipper swallowed nervously, keeping his ground.

“You wouldn’t do that. You’d lose your only energy source.” Both of his hands flamed in a harsh blue. “All you have to do is agree to the rules. That’s it.” Dipper cringed at the voice crack that arose, giving away his trembling demeanour.

“ _Fine,_ ” Bill hissed, holding out yet another flaming hand. Dipper took it, and was met with a murderous grip.

“Chill, Jesus Christ.”

Bill glared furiously at him, but the ominous red glow vanished from his eyes, and only one of his hands were on fire. That was a start.

And then he went to sit down next to the cooler. Dipper stared after him incredulously, standing with arms to his sides.

“Why . . .? What?”

“According to your little rule, I can only take some energy at a time. Which I can only do when I’m around you.” A complacent grin grew on Bill’s face. “You’re stuck with me.”

Dipper groaned, falling against the roof to stare at the clouds once again. He briefly glanced back at Bill, who somehow gained a pair of sunglasses.

What a nut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bill’s back babey 🥳
> 
> i’ve spent the last three days straight writing this fic, so i’m gonna take a little break for a day or so to finish up hw and other usual life stuff. 
> 
> see u guys soon, and as always feel free to comment or leave kudos! <33


End file.
